


Breathless (II)

by 12gatsunohime (inkstainedwretch)



Series: Breathless [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M, and body eating for that matter, soul eating, though it isn't graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/12gatsunohime
Summary: Sometimes.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Series: Breathless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958479
Kudos: 11





	Breathless (II)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal, [here](https://12gatsunohime.livejournal.com/63008.html).

_Those eyes. Bright and blue and deadly. They don't call out to him, they_ shout _at him. They_ order _him. They_ demand _his compliance. There is no fear in those eyes, only anger, and ambition, and beneath it all, desire. Desire for power, for vengeance, for_ him _. And so he smiles like a demon, and he whispers amongst the screaming,  
_  
"Yes, my Lord."

_And the world goes up in flames._

\---

Sebastian wishes he hadn't closed those lovely eyes, wishes he could have seen that desire again before it faded away. The anger had been replaced with a chilling kind of justice, the ambition with acceptance, but the desire, the desire was still pure and raw, just where it always was. But it hardly matters now, because there is nothing left in the eyes but neural fibers and connective tissue, and that is that. And really, what has he let himself become, to start wishing for things?

\---  
_  
When the first bullet hits him, it's a shock. When the rest of them hit, it's more of a thrill, the incredible pain accompanied by a kind of malicious joy. He lets them tear through his flesh, dozens at a time, until he's merely lying on the floor, still and silent._

_(Not to say it doesn't hurt; weapons really have evolved since the last time he did something like this.)_

_Inside, he is laughing, because he knows that all he has to do is wait a moment or two, and the arrogant filth who thought they could capture his young master and live are going to get the surprise of their lives._

_"Oi, how long are you going to lie there?" A voice from across the room, rough and impatient._

_And he stands up._

\---

The voice is gone. It has been gone for a while now, the lips from which it came _(clear and sharp, even when he whispered)_ are now cold and still, slowly turning a pale shade of violet. The demon would be a fool to miss that voice.

\---  
_  
His hands are perhaps the smallest part of him, with long, girlish fingers and nails that are always just a little rough along the edges. He can feel how utterly brittle they are, twigs of bone underneath the flesh. He could snap them so easily, he would barely have to think about it. After all, in the end he is only a human. Only a boy._

 _And yet how_ forceful _he could be. How firmly he could twist those small, breakable fingers around the handle of his cane, or the trigger of a gun, or the bones of his butler's wrist. The boy could leave bruises. he discovered, smears of blue-dusk just between the white of gloves and the black of sleeves, for Sebastian to marvel at late, late at night, in those few hours he spent alone._

\---

The demon does not look at the hands, still clinging limply to his hair and shoulder. They will stay that way forever, he knows, hardening like stone and then dissolving away until nothing but bone remains, if he does not move them. __

_\---_

_He is lying on an altar with a brand on his back and fire in his eyes, bare and helpless save for his own undoing._

_He is crouched in an alleyway with a gun in the waistband of his trousers, staring into the eyes of his mother's sister as she lifts the knife that would tear him to pieces if it ever had the chance._

_He is sitting on his bed, his skin glowing in the candlelight, reaching out slowly to run those fingers through raven-black locks._

_He is kneeling before his butler, gasping through the bile in his mouth, almost begging him to burn it, burn everything to the ground._

_\---_

The demon closes his eyes and leans his head forward to rest on the small, still-warm shoulder in front of him. The images come unbidden, like bubbles to the surface of a boiling pot. __

_\---_

_He is standing in a field, gazing at a long-abandoned factory, his head thrown back and his eyes wide and gleaming, laughing at everything and nothing until he can barely draw breath._

_He is leaning against the doorframe, a hand over his nose and mouth, refusing to cross the threshold until_ someone _does something about the cat that has gotten loose in the parlor._

_He is lying on his side, chained to a man he has only just met, chastising him for being so slow._

_He is glaring at him from his seat on the other side of the carriage. "Don't tease me."_

\---

And now they rise like steam, clouding the demon's mind until he cannot see anything but a whirl of blue like midnight and red like blood and pale like flesh and black like demons, all fading in and out of his vision while the rest of him stays still as a corpse.

\---   
_  
He is lying across him, smoothing the palms of his hands over his shoulders and chest, leaning his head down so that his hair falls over his skin like a curtain._

_He is up on one knee on Sebastian's side of the carriage, nervous determination in his eyes, using the black hair as a handle to twist his butler's face towards his own, "Don't laugh at me. Don't ever laugh at me," and then he is kissing him again._

_He is lying on his bed, fingernails clawing at the sheets beneath him, bare and helpless save for his own undoing, shouting to the heavens, whether they are listening or not.  
_ _  
He is sitting on a stone bench, looking up at him with both eyes full of justice and acceptance and that same burning desire, simply waiting, waiting for the demon to obey him. "I want you to carve the pain of my life into my soul."_

\---

Sebastian would like to stay there, letting the taste of sorrow and pain and love soak into his tongue, until the fingers in his hair crumble to dust. He would like to, until he hears a voice in the back of his head, a familiar laugh ringing in his ears, teasing him, calling him a sentimental fool, and aren't you going to get on with it? And it makes sense, really. 

\---  
_  
He is asleep at his desk, his chair turned to one side, as Sebastian comes in with the evening's tea and cake. He is still and defenseless before him, so small and breakable._

_Sebastian sets the tea set on the table and closes the curtain behind the desk._

_"You're not going to kill me?"_

_"No, I am not. The terms of the contract have not been fulfilled."_

_"You're a demon. What do you care?"_

\---

The demon lifts his head. 

\---  
_  
"It is against my principles to end a contract before it has been completed."_

_"Tch. You and your principles. You know you're probably the only being left on earth who has any."_

_He says nothing._

_"...How do you eat someone's soul, anyway? Don't try to be vague about it, I want to know the truth. How do they taste?"_

_"There are two ways to consume a soul. By eating it along with the flesh, one piece at a time, or by drawing it out through the mouth."_

_"Hm... Which way do you prefer?" He lifts his fork and takes a bite of the raspberry-chocolate cake in front of him._

_"In my case, it depends on the soul. Most of the time, I choose the former method, as it is more satisfying to the appetite. However, in the case of masters I find particularly...intriguing, I prefer to taste the soul pure. It means it is consumed more rapidly, but the taste is much stronger, much like draining the nectar from a fruit."_

\---

He opens his mouth.

\---  
_  
"And do you eat the fruit even after the nectar has been drawn out of it?"_

\---

He lets his teeth slide down.

\---  
__  
"Sometimes."


End file.
